


Bonding

by AmbecaWatson, kuwlshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding Therapy, Canon verse, Destiel Reverse Bang, Frottage, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Meddling Sam, Reversebang - Fic based on Art, slightly NSFW art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbecaWatson/pseuds/AmbecaWatson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwlshadow/pseuds/kuwlshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was being a pain in Dean's ass as usual, faking a case that got him stuck in something as stupid as bonding therapy. And why does the stupid therapist give him the homework to bond with Cas, who after Sam calls him down, just won't let go anymore? And why does Dean actually not find this completely awful? </p><p>~A Destiel Reverse Bang~</p><p> </p><p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonding

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Destiel Reverse Bang on Livejournal.
> 
> Art by: [Kuwlshadow](http://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/20691.html)  
> Beta'd by: [Desirae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae)

“This is stupid,” Dean whispered at his brother, crossing his arms.

There was no reason that he should be sitting in a room with a bunch of loonies spilling their guts about all their problems, just a short drive from home, in Lebanon's health center. He had agreed to do this because his brother had tricked him into it. Sam had told him about members of this group going missing and turning up dead the next day, so they had gone in to investigate.

“I don't know what to say,” Dean had whispered when they sat down for the first time, and Sam had answered: “Just tell the truth then.”

So Dean did, and it was the worst thing he'd ever done. 

Their therapist was a competent middle-aged man who explained the therapy concept in painstaking detail during the first ten minutes of their first session.

Bonding therapy's basic concept was the correction of behaviour that resulted in avoiding deep, emotional connection, reached out to cure people longing for love who had felt great pain when said love was withheld and as a result it had turned them abrasive and made them suffer because they did not allow themselves feelings. 

“This is stupid,” Dean had blurted out at this point and he wasn't the only one. Everyone in this room except Sam seemed like they were rejecting the very idea.

The introduction went on with the goals of the group sessions: I exist, I need and I am entitled.

“Yeah, an entitled dick,” Dean muttered and had gotten a giggle and a flirty glance from the woman next to him, until Sam had cleared his throat for Dean to focus.

The goals were set as living your life, recognising that your needs were good and just, and that they need to be taken care of to be happy, but also to be allowed to make mistakes now and again.

The first hour of therapy sessions was easy to get by, because Dean simply refused to take any of the advice given, and only rolled his eyes when the therapist ended the first meeting with: “You have all made great progress and I look forward to seeing you next session where we will talk about your families. And pretty soon we will start group bonding.”

 

The next meeting started with: “So, Dean. Let's talk about your father,” and because Dean had not prepared a cover story, he just blurted out that his dad had never appreciated him much, had put too much on him and whenever he'd had a temper or a problem with Sam, he had lashed out at him.

By the end of his questioning, he felt vulnerable and kind of violated. As he and Sam left, something dawned on Dean and he also started getting pissed. This group thing fit too well to him for his own liking. 

“Is there even a case here?” he asked Sam.

His brother drew his mouth into a pout and shrugged: “Yeah, the signs were clear. Anyway, it can't hurt to stick around a few more days, can it?”

“Yeah, awesome,” Dean groaned and left in the Impala as soon as they were out of the meeting room. He needed a drink.

 

“As I told you last session, we are gonna start bonding with the group now, but first of all, I'd like for you to share stories about your evening. Dean, why don't you start us off.”

“Wha-?” Dean's head darted up, although it felt heavy and had to look incredibly clumsy. 

“Are you drunk?” The therapist asked.

“No, not anymore. But I was last night,” Dean chuckled, trying to find the woman he had flirted with last session, but his vision was too blurry to focus.

“Are you this drunk more often?” the therapist continued, scribbling onto a pad.

“Yes,” Sam answered for Dean.

“Not that often,” Dean shook his head and had to hold onto the chair to steady himself because that made him dizzy.

“This is typical behavior for people with your condition. Tell me, Dean. In how high esteem do you hold yourself?”

“Ehhh, heh? Self-esteem? Non-existent, I guess,” Dean continued to chuckle, the alcohol just letting the truth roll off his tongue.

“I see. And what brings you pleasure?” 

“I dunno. Sex?”

“With whom?”

“Everyone who'll have me?” Dean asked back, tired of giving answers and feeling more in control when he asked questions himself.

“Right.” Another scribbled note on the pad. “Then tell me about the people you are closest to.”

Dean was getting pissed again, and was almost convinced that there was never any case here, so he blurted out just to have some peace: “There's my sasquatch little brother who dragged me here and there's this angel-”

“Dude, you can't-”

“Shuddup, Sammy. If I wanna tell them about Cas, I will.”

“I see,” the therapist scribbled again. “You are in a relationship with someone named Cas and you think that person is a literal angel.”

“That's not, what-”

“I wasn't finished, Dean,” the therapist said quietly. “I was hoping to start group therapy with all of you today, but it seems like you need to reassess your bonding process with your partner first. Because wouldn't you agree that it's not fair to him, if you're this reclusive and drown your need for bonding in alcohol and random intercourse?”

“I don't,” Dean shook his head, too out of it to formulate his protest.

“I am giving you homework and I think it's best if your brother helps you with it. You and your partner need to bond. How do you think your partner feels about you treating yourself so badly? Or how do you feel your brother thinks about this?”

“I guess it kinda scares them. And makes them feel bad. And woah, I'm not actually-” Dean babbled, his head hurting.

“I think that will do. Your homework consists in establishing for yourself that you and your partner have an emotional connection. If you end up having intercourse, that is not a problem, but it is not essential to what we're trying to achieve for you. Just enjoy feeling close to your loved one. Good work, Dean. ”

The rest of the meeting went by with stories of the other patients and then a session where everyone walked around to exchange a few words with someone they hadn't spoken to before, which Dean was relieved of, while he slowly felt back to normal even if he had to drink five cups of very thin, bitter coffee to arrive at that state.

“Let's get the hell outta here, and back to the bunker,” Dean rumbled viciously, by now completely convinced that there was no case here because the shit-eating grin on Sam's face told him all he needed to know.

“Hello, Dean,” there was a deep voice in his ear so suddenly that Dean flinched and jerked the wheel around for a bit until his heartbeat slowed down again and the car was steady against the oncoming traffic.

“Don't do that,” he intoned viciously and then stared his brother down. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Dean fumed all the way back to the bunker and made his way to his room, stomping and slamming the door shut loudly once he was in.

When he ripped off his jacket and threw it into his chair, he felt bad about his childish act, but he was also still pissed at Sam.

“Dean?” Cas' head popped in through the door. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean sighed and regretted it the very next second, because Cas not only came in, but immediately started hugging him.

“Yeah alright, buddy,” Dean clapped the angel's back awkwardly, and stood there as stiff as a poker until such time as Cas would let go.

But he didn't, not even after a minute, no matter how Dean moved and took a step back to indicate that the hug had been long enough.

“You can let go now,” he blinked when Cas still didn't let go and instead burrowed his head into Dean's chest.

“No, I am not supposed to. Sam told me about your task and that you are in need of my help for it.”

“That's because Sam's stupid,” Dean sighed, his arms holding onto Cas and clapping him reassuringly to say that it was ok if he let go, but Cas only raised his head to peer into Dean's eyes.

“He told me you're suffering because you can't let anyone be close to you, and that is something that I observe in you every time I see you. I am very glad you see that now and let me heal you from this brokenness. It is an honor, Dean. I promise I won't let go.”

Dean gulped and didn't know what to say or do after what Cas had said, so he didn't object anymore to Cas touching him as much as he could, adjusting around the angel's frame during a quick dinner and when the three of them sat down to watch a movie, Dean moving as if he had an unevenly shaped lumb hanging off his body, which he actually had and which went by the name of Castiel, angel of the Lord.

Sam only smirked, but didn't say much about how cuddly Cas had become or about how Dean wasn't even objecting to it, and actually leaned closer to Cas, roughly tugging his arm around him and laying his head on Cas' shoulder.

“Are you comfortable?” Cas rasped.

“Not as if I have any other choice, right? You're not letting go of me anyway.”

“You do have a choice, Dean. If you want to, I can let go right now. I just see that you're happy, perhaps happier than I've ever seen you.”

“I don't want you to let go,” Dean muttered and it was true. It felt nice to have someone hold him at all times.

His head jerked off of Cas' shoulder when he thought that. This is stupid, was again in his head, but Cas looked at him because of his sudden movement and the objection Dean wanted to raise got stuck in his throat.

“You're not gonna watch me sleep though, are you?” he rasped, and noticed he was flirting again. With Cas. Who was wrapped all around him.

“Only if you want me to,” Cas muttered in that deep voice of his and Dean, who had felt a little tingly before, now felt downright hot, his heart racing like there was no tomorrow.

“Do you want a beer?” Sam asked when the clock struck 11 and Dean only shook his head, strangely not wanting any alcohol, content to hold onto Cas for a little while longer.

“Great,” Sam beamed as if Dean had just correctly answered the million dollar question. “I'm gonna hit the sack now. Night, guys.”

“Night,” Dean said, moving his head a little and staring at Cas again when Sam was out the door. 

“You want to go to sleep as well?” Cas asked him.

“Yeah, had a rough night and could use the shut eye.”

They got up and Dean's heart beat harder than ever, thinking about getting undressed in front of Cas.

“Can you turn around or something?” he asked when they were back in his room, Cas' arms around his shoulders, trenchcoat and everything still on.

“Why? I have seen you unclothed, and you have seen me too.”

Dean chuckled nervously: “Yeah, the bees. That was kinda hilarious. Hey... woah! When have you seen me naked?”

“I have rebuilt you, Dean. Not only your soul, but your whole body.”

“You perved on me in hell?”

“What is 'perved'?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side and Dean had to remind himself he did not find this adorable at all.

“Never mind,” he said dismissively and blushed fiercely when his belt stuck and he had to look down to unstrap it, Cas' gaze following his immediately.

“This is fucking awkward,” Dean blushed and tugged at the resistent leather sharply, tumbling into Cas' arms but finally having opened the belt.

He was mere inches from Cas' face, scenting his skin that had a smell that didn't strike him as quite human, there was something more etherous about it, and he couldn't help wonder what Cas would taste like.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I have been enlightened about this bonding therapy you are participating in. And as I understand it, part of it is giving in to your urges. And I assure you, I would not object.”

“Yeah...,” Dean was lost in thought, looking at Cas' lips. “Huh? What?”

“Kiss me, you ass,” Cas clarified.

“That I understood,” Dean chuckled and he didn't know why, maybe his inhibitions or his emotional blockage had dissolved, but he leaned forward, his hands feeling natural on Cas' body now after hours of holding onto it and just kissed him.

Fire was tickling his stomach, a moan escaped him because the scent was so much more intense while breathing it in and tasting it at the same time. 

Cas tasted like angel, also faintly like a pb&j sandwich, and very distinctly male somehow. All something Dean would never have guessed he would enjoy, but as he slowly explored Cas' lips with his tongue and darted between them, inviting him to open up, he felt like he more than enjoyed this. 

Cas' low moan when he experimentally darted his tongue out to meet Dean's was music to his ears and made him feel bubbly all over. The feeling flowed through him, making him so bold as to just hook his hands underneath the trenchcoat and peel Cas out of it, his fingers gliding down the angel's arms. 

Dean parted their mouths, panting and finding Cas' eyes.

“I wanna get naked, feel more of you,” he expressed his wish. “Do you wanna get naked?”

“Yes,” Cas breathed, clumsily tugging at Dean's shirt and pants.

Dean chuckled and stopped exploring Cas' body for a second to slip out of his shirt, holding onto Cas again as soon as he could, kissing him with newly awakened hunger that he guessed would not be quenched for a long while.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, raking his fingers over Dean's torso. “I feel very hot.”

“Then let's get that suit off you, ok?” Dean asked, his fingers already unbottoning the angel's dress shirt and once he didn't need to see what he was doing anymore, he just let them fall down, exposing the angel's defined body and imitating him in exploring movements.

He flicked against one exposed nipple and Cas' breath hitched slightly, but their kiss only got rougher because of it.

Dean's hands were a bit sweaty now, going down faster and coming to rest on Cas' belt. His track record with belts wasn't the best this evening, but was that the only thing that was stopping him from getting into Cas' pants?

“Dean,” Cas groaned again, desperation palpable as his hips snapped forward and Dean gave himself a push, just pulling the belt through it's loops and tugging the loose slacks down in one go.

Cas urged against him now, rubbing himself on him with just his boxers on, and Dean wondered why he had ever hesitated. He quickly let his own jeans fall and backed Cas onto the mattress, sliding into place above him, feeling something hard poke his hip.

“You're hard,” he whispered with an edge in his voice.

“You too,” Cas gave back, open-mouthed and bending his neck up to show Dean that he was more than ready for more kisses. 

Dean complied, loving the feeling of Cas' naked skin on his, the clinging of the angel's arms around his back, and the overwhelming heat where they ground their hips together. 

“Emotional bond,” the words of the therapist suddenly echoed in Dean's brain just when he started wondering how best to take care of what was happening to his downstairs brain right now.

“Dean, please,” Cas moaned, when the friction became too overwhelming for the angel, and Dean tugged down their underwear, dauntlessly grabbing them both and pleased to find that he could just thrust up into his fist because they had precome enough to spare between themselves.

“Fuck,” he whispered when the hard, yet somehow velvety length of Cas pressed close to his own and when he gyrated his hips into his fist, the friction became even more maddening.

Cas only rumbled low in his throat, his hands splayed on Dean's back and if Dean hadn't been so far gone, he'd have smiled about the mild sensation of shock and surprise painted on Cas' face when he came. But as aroused as he was, Dean only felt Cas twitching against him that that was it; he came as well, pressing passionate kisses to Cas' neck because he just felt like he had to kiss some part of the angel he could reach, before his hips stuttered and he came to a panting rest, bracing his weight a little and panting into the nook of Cas' neck.

“That was incredible,” Cas said hoarsely, strands of his hair tickling Dean's cheek as he turned his head, searching for him.

Dean raised his head, smiling down at the sated angel underneath him and let Cas explore his blushing cheeks with his fingers.

“Are you happy, Dean?”

“As a matter of fact... I am,” Dean smiled and rolled off Cas, but never stopped touching him. 

“Hey,” he grinned when Cas turned towards him, Dean hazily thumping the skin just over the angel's hipbones.

“Hey,” Cas gave back, somehow questioning as if he didn't understand why Dean let out a greeting word just now.

“Can we do this again? Do you want that too?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled, sounding definite. “Seeing you happy makes me happy as well.”

“So you're saying, your happiness depends on me being happy?”

“If you will,” Cas nodded, and Dean had lots of things to think about for the rest of the night, which was mostly spent in absolute proximity to Cas, until Dean fell into an exhausted sleep, allowing Cas to watch over him after all before he dosed off. 

 

“You comin', Sammy?” he asked after getting ready in the morning.

“What? Where to?” Sam yawned into his cereal bowl.

“Back to the case of course. People's lives are at stake here, man.”

“You wanna go back to the therapy session?” Sam asked, his mouth agape.

“No, course not. I'm just trying to save lives here,” Dean shook his head about his dumb and lazy brother who wasn't even dressed yet. “Fine, if you don't wanna come with me, I'll go alone. And if the therapist calls you, can you tell him how you helped me with my homework? Don't wanna blow my cover. A-and if Cas drops in while I'm gone, tell him where I'll be, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam seemed to still have to wrap his head around what he had just heard and Dean left before he had to see his brother's smug face again about Dean actually going back to the bonding therapy even though they all knew there was only one case here: Get Dean to learn to open up and let people into his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original art on which the story was based. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  
> 
> For more information, check out this link: [Bonding Therapy](http://www.bondingpsychotherapy.org/introduction/) If it helped Dean, it could make a difference in your life as well.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
